Your Belgian Things

The men were here to get your Belgian things

They'll store them for you in an airplane hangar

There's guys in biohazard suits, mud caking on their rubber boots

They've come to keep your pretty things from danger

The men came here to get your Belgian things

They'll spend the whole day hauling them downstairs

I shot a roll of 32 exposures

My camera groans beneath the weight it bears

I can see you in my sleep

Playing the points for all your worth

Walking gingerly across

The bruised earth

The men came here to get your Belgian things

They waltzed right through the door and went fluorescent

Their boots were black and shiny and your treasures gleamed like stars

Bones from deep down in the fertile crescent

The arteries are clogging in the mainframe

There's too much information in the pipes

I saw the mess you left up in the east bedroom

A tiger's never gonna change its stripes

I guess, I guess

But Jesus, what a mess

One way in

No way out

The men came here to get your Belgian things

While I was only here to see them do it

I wish you had a number where you are

It's hard with no one here to help me through it

I can see you in my sleep

Playing the points for all your worth

Walking gingerly across

The bruised earth